Home for Christmas
by TinkerbellReturns
Summary: Takes place in a very distant future, with Storybrooke partially restored - at least when it comes to roads and such! Neal has moved back to New York to give Emma some room. All is fine until the day Henry decides to spend Christmas with his father - and a certain conversation with Mr. Gold makes Emma realize that what you've asked for isn't always what you truly want.
1. Chapter 1

_I'm dreaming tonight of a place I love_  
_Even more than I usually do_  
_And although I know_  
_It's a long road back, I promise you_

_I'll be home for Christmas_  
_You can count on me_

* * *

**_Chapter 1: Home is where the heart is_**

"Where is he?" asked Emma, pushing the door to Mr. Gold's shop unceremoniously.

"He, who?"

"Henry."

"Ahh... That."

Without raising his eyes from the set of silver spoons he was polishing, Mr. Gold's lips curled into a smirk.

"He left me this note," Emma continued, taking a piece of paper out of her red leather jacket.

"Then I take it you know where he is."

"He wouldn't have gone to New York if someone hadn't helped him."

"And you thought of me?," Mr. Gold had finally shifted his gaze to her face. "If I remember it well, it wasn't my credit card he stole when he decided to leave town for the first time...Looking for a parent, by the way," he said, giving her one of his trademark disdainful looks. "I see a pattern here."

"I have already checked with Mary Margaret. He hasn't taken her credit card."

"Yours, maybe? Regina's? Perhaps your fat-"

"Gold," Emma interrupted. "You're hiding something."

"No, my dear, I'm not. I know just as much as you do."

Upon his cryptic answer, Emma merely tilted her head to the side with a raised eyebrow.

"That children can be awfully perceptive, and that Henry is no exception," he added.

"What do you mean?"

"You wanted space, and my son did just that. He gave you space, by going back to his apartment in Manhattan. But he misses the boy, and the boy misses him, can you see where the trouble is?"

"I didn't tell him to go back to New Y-"

"No, you didn't. But as I said, children are awfully perceptive. And Henry knows that having his father hang around was making you uncomfortable."

"It was not mak-"

"And so," he interrupted again, "instead of calling his father home for Christmas, as we all know he wanted to, he chose to go meet his father instead."

And then, he paused, taking an instant to study her face.

"Very practical, don't you think?" he said quietly, resting his slender fingers on the counter. "That way, they get to spend time together without Neal imposing on you."

"Stop speaking like that..."

"Am I lying?" he asked, eyes fiery and daring as he waited for a response. "Do you want to spend Christmas with my son?"

Emma opened and closed her mouth a couple of times, eyes wide as she searched for the words to say.

"Y-Yes, I-I..." she stuttered. "We're a family."

"No, Ms. Swan, I don't think you understood my question," his voice was lower and slightly more serious, despite the smirk he was sporting. "But then, don't bother to."

"I understood your question," Emma replied, giving him a discreet eyeroll. "I'm just-"

"... not ready," he said, the look of disdain back on his eyes. "Yes, I know that. But see, the point is that my boy has been through a lot in his life, and it's a mistake to dwell on the past and forget to live."

The two of them exchanged a look full of contempt on his side and confusion on hers, until a light seemed to flicker in some dark corner of her brain.

Now, it all made sense.

"You told Neal to go back to New York!" she exclaimed.

"That I did," he admitted, walking round the counter to stand face to face with her. "He will never focus on the present with you hanging around, you mean far too much to him. But..." he raised a finger, his eyes once again gleaming as he spoke. "If there is one thing I learnt, and amazingly enough, from your father, is that now is all we have. Now, not tomorrow, not ten years from now when you might, _or might not_, be ready to give him another chance."

Emma took a step backwards when his voice grew even lower, his eyes piercing hers at every word.

"My son deserves to be happy. He deserves to be with someone that makes him feel as special as he is," he said, his voice, face and posture showing he couldn't possibly be calmer. "And sadly, I now realize that person is _not you_."

She swallowed, feeling the corners of her eyes prickle gently and wishing her heart would stop pounding so fast in her chest.

"I guess some things are just not meant to be," he added, before walking past her. "Now, if you will excuse me, I still have some Christmas shopping to do."

Her gaze dropped to the counter, and there it stayed for a very long minute, as if she were studying the items in display.

"Have a nice day, Ms. Swan."

* * *

"Emma?"

Her mother's voice made her jump. She took a moment to look around to get familiar with her surroundings: she had been so lost in thought that she had temporarily forgot she was back home, about to start helping Snow with the preparations for dinner.

"You look upset," she heard her mother say.

"Yeah. I guess I am."

"Is it because of Henry?"

"Yeah, this... thing with Neal, I just... I don't want him to suffer."

"Him?" Snow asked, raising her eyebrows as she picked up a brown paper bag and placed it near the stove. "You mean Henry? Or Neal?"

"Both..." Emma whispered, her face letting her sadness show. "It's just... That's not what I wanted for Henry. To feel I'm separating his father from him..."

"Emma, I'm sure that has never crossed his mind," said Snow, giving her daughter's arm a gentle squeeze. "And Henry is probably having a blast in New York."

"Maybe, but... we could have talked. Instead he just left a note, as if he was... running."

"Honey, I know it is not easy..." Snow let out a sad smile before speaking again. "I guess that's what all divorced parents go through, you'll have to learn how to share Henry, let him spend time with the other two parents he h-"

"Gold said something to me."

"Oh."

"He said I'm not the right person for Neal."

"Really?" Snow asked, after blinking a couple of times, unable to hide a frown. "He said that?"

"Yeah."

"And... what do you think about that?"

"I don't know. Maybe he's right," Emma whispered, staring blankly at the sink. "Maybe the two of us are just not meant to be."

Snow had just opened her mouth to speak when Emma woke up from her trance and reached for the brown paper bag near the sink.

"Whatever," she said. "I'll just... I'll help you with the dinner."

* * *

She had never been a fan of cooking, but she had to admit that peeling potatoes and chopping vegetables for the past two hours had taken her mind away from things she didn't want to think about.

"Emma?"

This time, it was her father's voice by her side.

"Hmmm?"

"I'm sure the parsley is well chopped by now."

She looked down at the green puree that had once been a bunch of fresh herbs.

"Oh," she put the knife down, scanning the kitchen as she tried to locate a clock to check what time it was.

"Why don't you... take a break?" asked Charming, resting a hand over her shoulder. "I have to go get some groceries, will you join me?"

"Okay."

"You look-"

"...upset," she said. "Yeah, I've been told."

"Christmas blues making another victim?"

She smirked as she wiped her hands on a dishcloth and followed his father into the living room, and from there to the porch.

Before entering her father's pickup truck, she took a moment to look at the Christmas lights and all the decoration her parents had placed outside. Had it always been their tradition, or were they only doing that because of her and Henry?

"David?"

"Yes?" he replied, halfway through opening the door to the driver's seat.

She smiled, taking that chance to approach her father and, after a moment of hesitation, wrap his arms around him.

"Thanks."

"What for?"

"Everything."

He felt him cradling her head, the way he always did when they hugged.

"You don't have to thank us for anything, Emma," he said, kissing her forehead after pulling away. "That's what family is for."

"I know."

She felt the corners of her eyes sting when she remembered all the holidays that she had spent on her own, as a child, waiting for a loving hug like that, for a family that she never knew she had.

"Now how do you say we go get those groceries?" she heard her father say, and another smile curled the corners of her lips.

"Yeah."

Not long after they both entered the car, though, she knew there was something off.

"David?" she asked, as soon as they hit the highway. "Why are we heading out of town?"

"Oh, I have another stop to make..."

"Where?"

"You'll see."

One hour had gone by, and they were still on the road.

"We are not shopping for groceries, are we?" Emma asked.

"I am. But you... I don't think so."

"Oh… " her mouth gaped a little when she finally sighted a sign that read 'Logan International Airport'. "Now hold on a minute..."

And then, they finally stopped.

"What is goin-"

"Emma," David interrupted, turning to look at his daughter. "What are you doing here?

"What?"

"Don't get me wrong, your mother and I would love to spend Christmas with you, but it's obvious this is not where you want to be."

Her eyes went wide, and she tripped on her own words before being able to phrase something coherent.

"I just... I guess I just wanted everyone to be together, that's all."

"I know that feeling. But things don't always happen the way we want to. We have to change plans all the time…" as he spoke, he reached for something inside one of the pockets of his jacket. "And that is not necessarily bad."

She felt her heart had skipped a beat when she saw what he was holding.

"Oh, David, no..."

"The plane leaves in less than one hour," he said, handing her the tickets for a flight to New York. "You'd better run."

She looked at her own hands as she grasped the voucher, unsure as to what to say or feel as she stepped out of the car.

"Hey wait," Charming called out. "Your mother packed you a few clothes."

He ran towards her to give her the backpack, and once again hug her.

"Merry Christmas, Emma," he whispered, before pressing a kiss to her forehead.

She closed her eyes, trying not to let her concerns take over at least for that brief moment in which her father had his arms around her.

"Thanks, dad," she said, a grateful smile on her lips as she waved him goodbye before rushing in and disappearing into the crowd inside the airport.


	2. Chapter 2: Merry Christmas

**Chapter 2: Merry Christmas**

On her way to Neal's apartment, Emma rubbed her temples.

Manhattan gave her headaches.

_"Did you know who I was, where I was from, this whole time?"_

_"Is this my son?"_

_"You left me, and let me go to jail because Pinocchio told you to?"_

_"She's my fiancee."_

"Miss?"

The taxi driver's voice didn't originally register in her brain.

"Miss?"

"Oh, sorry."

She didn't even bother to ask the man how much she owed him. She still remembered how much that ride had cost her the first time, and since it was Christmas Eve, it was only fair to pay him twice as much.

"Merry Christmas," she said, after giving him the money and grabbing the backpack by her side.

She waited by the sidewalk, pretending to be on the phone until someone entered the building so that she could follow suit. When she got to apartment 407, she stuffed her hands in the pockets of her coat, and took a long, deep breath before leaning against the door.

No voices, no noise of any kind: there didn't seem to be anyone inside.

She should have counted on that possibility: that Neal and Henry would spend the day somewhere else. Maybe a restaurant? The Central Park? Times Square?

For a moment, she considered her options: she could either go out and look for them, at the expense of maybe not finding them and spending the evening alone, or she could wait, even though there was a chance they wouldn't return - in which case, she would be spending the evening all by herself, in the hallway.

Or, a much better option, _inside his apartment_.

"I hope he keeps some booze hidden somewhere, at least..." she muttered, looking over her shoulder to make sure no one was looking as she picked the lock. One soft click later, the door opened and she walked in, feeling a certain tingle in her fingertips as she let her eyes wander around, remembering every moment she had spent in that place. Lying to Gold about not knowing Neal. The look of disappointment on Henry's face upon the realization that she had lied to him about his father. Neal calling her out for not telling him the truth. Gold on the verge of dying, Neal telling her he knew how to sail a ship...

She walked towards the window, and just like she had done that day, she took the dreamcatcher in her hands and brought it closer to her chest. To think that one day everything had been so simple... All they wanted was a job, an apartment, a life in Tallahassee.

_Some things were just not meant to be._

Her chin trembled when she put the dreamcatcher back in its place, and tried to send all the grief for the life they could have had back to some dark corner of her mind.

As she walked away from the window, a very modest Christmas tree came into view from the top of a small table near the bed. It had very few ribbons as decoration, and what drew most attention were the gifts around it. She picked up the smallest box to look at the tiny card attached to it, and her heart skipped a beat.

_'To Emma.'_

"It's conspire, Henry, not _'count spiders'_," she heard a familiar voice say somewhere in the hallway. "_'Later on, we'll conspire, as we drink by the fire'_."

"Drink? I thought it was _'dream'_!"

"No, it's _'drink'_. I'm positive."

And then, she heard the two of them laugh.

"But 'dream' would be okay too, I g-wait, I thought I had locked the door when we left?"

"I thought so too."

She swallowed when the door opened ever so slowly, and only then did she realize she was still holding the small box in her hands. As quickly as she could, she put it back under the tree, and tried to look calm and collected despite the loud pounding inside her chest.

"Emma?"

Neal's face was a mixture of shock and delight when he entered the room and saw her standing in a corner.

"What are you doing here?"

"Mom!"

She was not sure what she would have answered if Henry hadn't rushed to hug her.

What _was _she doing there?

"Someone here decided to run to New York, so I had to check what was going on," she lied, shuffling her kid's hair as she avoided Neal's gaze.

"I left you a note..." the boy replied, quietly.

"Yeah. But I wished you had talked to me."

"I didn't want you to be upset."

"I wouldn't be upset," she replied.

_'I would have joined you,'_ she completed, mentally.

"I'm... I'm sorry, Emma," she heard Neal say, keeping a cautious distance from her.

"What for?"

"I should have called you when he got here."

"That's okay," she whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of Henry's head as her hands moved from his shoulders to his back. "Henry, why are your clothes wet?"

"Dad took me ice-skating in Central Park."

She finally raised her eyes to Neal, who was beaming with pride.

"Boy's good at it. He only fell a couple of times, whereas I..."

"You were getting better," Henry replied, with a chuckle. "If we had another hour I'm sure you would have learnt how to do it."

"That's what I told myself when I tried to teach him how to dance..." she whispered into the boy's ear. "Take my advice: don't get your hopes up!"

"Hey, I heard that!"

The three of them chuckled, and that was the last thing they did before awkward silence settled in.

"What's with... all the shopping," asked Emma, pointing to the dozen bags Neal had just placed near the bookcase.

"Henry had some last-minute shopping to do," Neal replied, as he took off his coat and reached for a bottle of scotch from under a counter. "But looks like we'll have to go out again, we forgot Pongo. Right, buddy?" he called out, since Henry had already gone to the bathroom to change his clothes.

"Yeah!"

"Scotch?" he asked quietly, offering her a glass.

"I'm fine."

She let out a saddened smile as she shook her head, her gaze once again dropping to the ground.

When she raised her eyes to his face, she saw him open the bottle, and after a moment of hesitation, close it again and put it back under the counter, as well as the two glasses.

"Wanna come?" he asked.

"Excuse me?"

"Shopping. Wanna join us?"

"Yeah." she replied, hands back in her pockets. "Sounds fun... and dangerous, given it's NY and we are hours away from Christmas..."

"Do you guys mind if I stay?" asked Henry, who walked out of the bathroom wearing his PJs.

Emma pursed her lips - she knew exactly what Henry was doing.

"Henry..."

"I'm tired," the boy added, before she had any time to complain. "My back hurts."

She exchanged a quick glance with Neal, who shrugged.

"You don't have to go if you don't want to," he whispered. "I can just stop by the pet sh-"

"I'll go," she said, heading to the door before she changed her mind. "Henry, I have my cell phone, okay? If you need anything, just call. We'll be back soon."

"Take care, buddy."

* * *

They had already stopped by a pet shop to get Pongo a box of Milk-Bone Dog Treats, and were now standing in front of the Rockefeller Center to see its Christmas tree, an idea other hundreds of people seemed to have had as well.

"This is my favorite time of the year," Neal said, as he leaned against the rail with a calm smile on his lips.

"A good time to be in Manhattan, I suppose."

Somewhere along the way, he had gotten her a bag of popcorn, and every time she ran out of things to say, or didn't have the nerve to say the things she wanted to, she stuffed her mouth with a handful of it in an attempt to justify her silence.

The way he kept stealing glances towards her, though, wasn't helping much.

She could feel his eyes on her face as she munched on the popcorn, trying to gather the courage she needed to ask the question she was about to ask. She was not sure she wanted to go there, though. Sounded pointless now. But still... one of the things she grieved the most was the fact the three of them had never gotten to spend one Christmas together.

_Did he at least use to think about her?_

"Did you... use to come here with... with her?" she asked, as usual, avoiding his eyes.

"No."

His answer filled her with relief. Not that it should matter, since Tamara was nothing but a faint memory at that point, but the mere idea that woman had gotten to spend that time of the year with Neal while she, Emma, didn't, was something incredibly hurtful.

"Actually, we only spent one Christmas together," he added. "And well, we were not together. She travelled to the countryside to visit family."

"And you didn't join her?"

"We had been dating for a couple of months... She told me it was too soon. That her parents wouldn't take well to it."

"So she just... left you in New York to spend Christmas alone?"

"Yeah, in short."

When his gaze shifted from her to the Christmas tree ahead, she let her eyes linger on his face. There was a shadow of sadness and loss that reminded her a lot of herself - the same sadness and loss of every person who had ever felt unloved.

"And you were still gonna marry her?" she whispered.

She thought of asking why, but she knew why. She knew, judging by the sad smile on his face, what he was looking for. What he was _running from_.

"You're gonna laugh..." said Neal.

"I doubt it..."

"A few years after Portland, I got us Christmas stockings," he went on. "For you, and for me. With our names on them."

She saw him fumbling with his scarf as he spoke, and her eyes kept following his hands as if her mind was trying to offer a distraction from the dull ache in her heart.

"I still have them."

She was about to fill her mouth with more popcorn when Neal took the bag away from her hands and gently pushed her chin up so that he could look into her eyes.

"Every Christmas I... I wondered what it would have been like if I had stayed. What it would be like to spend Christmas with you."

A rush of panic made her heart beat faster. Her eyes darted from his lips to his eyes, and there was nothing she wanted more than to fill the gap between them and kiss him.

But she couldn't. She was not ready.

_She didn't want to be._

She knew that once they kissed, once she allowed herself to go there, there would be no turning back. This was Neal Cassidy, and a kiss with Neal Cassidy would never be a one-time thing. It was not something she could go back and forth on, not when there were so many feelings waiting to be unleashed - feelings she had no control upon.

She loved him, but she was not ready to feel again.

Probably, _she never would_.

"I'm glad you came over," he whispered, and by the time he smiled at her again, she was already feeling numb, just like she wanted to.

"I just wanna see Henry happy," she replied, her gaze vacant as she looked at him.

"Yeah," said Neal, blinking slowly as he spoke. "I'm sure he is."

Then, before she could stop it, he had his arms wrapped around her - and, as usual, her face was full of confusion and shock as she hugged him back.

* * *

"Henry?"

"Yeah, dad?"

"Your mother and I are about to get back, are you good?"

"Uh-hum."

"What do you wanna eat?"

"Pizza."

Neal let out a chuckle and turned to look at Emma, still holding the phone to his ear.

"Pizza for Christmas? You sure about that?"

"I'm positive."

"Kay, then. We'll stop at John's and be there in ten."

"Kid's got addicted to New York Pizza," Emma said, as she walked by his side. "It's your fault."

"I don't blame him. This place really has the best-"

"... pizza in the world," she completed, with a smile. "Yeah, I've been told."

He smiled back as he held the door to the Pizzeria open for her to enter.

"So... you're planning on staying?" she asked, after Neal placed their order and they both took a seat by the counter.

"You mean, here, in New York?"

"Yeah."

"I think so."

She swallowed, faking a smile as she looked at him.

"Your father misses you," she said.

"We've been doing fine... I write to him every week," he replied. "Though there's not much to say, really."

"Give it time... Good things come to those who wait."

She frowned at her own words.

"I mean..."

"I know what you mean," he said. "We'll both be able to move on from each other... meet other people, get on with our lives... We should just give it time."

For the first time in the evening, his eyes seemed to have lost some of its spark.

"Do you think... we still have a chance?" she asked, staring at the surface on the counter.

"Of what?"

"Of finding Tallahassee?"

He remained silent, and that made her raise her eyes from the counter to his face.

"No," he answered, when her gaze finally met his. "Tallahassee is out."

She felt her nostrils were burning, but she couldn't cry. Henry would know the moment she stepped back into the apartment, and she didn't want to ruin his Christmas with her sadness.

"We are not kids robbing convenience stores anymore, Emma. With twenty grand from stolen watches to find a place and settle down," his voice was low and hoarse when he spoke. "Tallahassee was out the moment I left you in Portl-"

"That's our pizza," she said, standing up just when a smoking hot cardboard box showed up on the counter.

* * *

"That was delicious," said Henry, as soon as the last pieces of pizza disappeared from the box.

"Yeah it was," Emma replied. "And I'm saying that as a person who's nowhere as crazy about pizza as you are, kid."

"Merry Christmas, Henry."

Emma followed Neal's eyes as he looked at their son. They were so full of pride and joy that she couldn't help but smile as well.

"Merry Christmas, dad. And mom."

"Did you have a good time?" she asked, squeezing his hand over the table.

"Are you kidding me?" he replied. "This was the best Christmas ever!"

"Whenever you wanna come visit, you know that I'll always be waiting for you, don't you?"

"Thanks, dad."

"Well..." said Emma, after letting out a sigh and standing up. "I say we should all clean up this mess and hop into bed."

"Agreed. Sounds like the best way to get to Christmas morning, right, buddy?"

Father and son stood up and shared a hug that Emma watched from the sink with a relieved grin.

As long as her boys were happy, she was happy, too.

When all the dishes were done and Henry had already gone to bed, Neal showed up by her side at the window.

"You sleep on the bed as well, I'll take the armchair."

"Isn't it too small for you?" she asked in a whisper, in case Henry had already fallen asleep.

"For someone who used to sleep in a bug... Nothing is too small."

He winked, and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"Night, Emma."

"Night."

"Merry Christmas."

"For you too."

She blinked when he pulled his T-shirt over his head after getting rid of all the other layers of clothing. Her lower stomach clenched, memories of the bug and of the feel of his skin under her fingertips a way too powerful combination for her body not to respond accordingly.

Before making sure she caught a glimpse of his chest before entering the bathroom, she closed the door behind her.

_Only to find out she had left her backpack outside._

"Great..." she whimpered.

With a sigh, she stepped outside just to find him with nothing but his boxers on.

"I'm sorry..." she whispered, as she walked past him to get her backpack on the other side of the room. "I forgot something."

On her way back to the bathroom, she accidentally let her eyes travel down his body, every inch of his exposed chest and legs bringing back memories that made her heart beat faster at every breath she took.

She had to splash some water on her face to make them go away.

When she had cooled down, she started searching for her PJs inside her backpack, and her fingers brushed against something that made her gasp.

"Oh, Mary Margaret..." she muttered, unable to contain the laughter rattling inside her chest as she pulled out a package carefully wrapped in one of her shirts.

"Emma? You okay?"

Neal's voice made her laugh even louder, unable to contain her nervousness.

"Yeah, I'm- I'm sorry," she said, after finally getting herself together. "I'm fine."


	3. Chapter 3: Broken Dreams

**Chapter 3: Broken Dreams**

When she opened her eyes the next morning, the first thing she spotted was Neal sleeping in the armchair by the window in what looked like a most uncomfortable position. But then, if she remembered their days in Portland well, that man had never had trouble sleeping, even when he was cramped in the driver's seat of their car or, later on, cuddling with her in the backseat.

For a longer minute than she would like to admit, she kept studying his face as he slept: he was always the one that fell asleep first, no matter how cold or hungry or uncomfortable they were. And then, in the middle of the night, he would wake up with a start, sweating, eyes wide as he tried to catch his breath.

He had never told her about the nightmares he used to have, even though they were way too frequent to go unnoticed. Now that she knew what kind of life he'd had before meeting her, though… she didn't blame him for avoiding that topic.

When the corners of her eyes started prickling, she forced herself to look away, her eyes landing on the dreamcatcher on the wall right behind his head. Did those things really keep nightmares away? Again, she glanced at his face… and then his chest heaving up and down in a steady rhythm as he continued to sleep.

Maybe they did.

She smiled sadly before reaching for her cell phone on the nightstand: 7 AM. Way too early for anyone to wake up - he would probably say if she got out of bed and prompted him to do the same - even on Christmas Day.

When she turned her head to look at Henry and tell him that they probably should wait a little longer before running to the Christmas tree, her heart skipped a beat.

She threw the blanket to the side, jumping from the bed and nearly tripping on the backpack on the floor by her side.

"Henry?"

When no response came from the bathroom, she opened the door merely to find no one inside.

"Neal," she said, shaking the man's shoulder as she tried not to panic. "Neal, wake up."

"What?"

"Henry's gone."

"What?" he repeated, rubbing his eyes in a vain attempt to look awake.

"Henry, Henry's not here."

Her mind was in such a daze she nearly forgot she was still wearing pajamas when she rushed to the door.

"Emma," his voice was still low and hoarse, but at least now he had managed to fully open his eyes. "Hang on, let's give him a call first, maybe he just went outside."

"Outside, alone? In New York?"

"He's about to turn thirteen, he can look after himself."

"How can you say that? After everything that he's been through!"

"Hey, hey, I know. But take it easy, it's not as if the Wicked Witch of the West would pay him a visit in Manh-"

"Don't say that name."

"Right. Just calm down, okay? Let's call him."

She took a long, deep breath to calm herself. She knew she was probably overreacting, but after all the unlikely events and tragedies that had happened to her family in the span of three years, she couldn't afford to take any chances.

"Now where's my phone?" she heard Neal ask.

"Use mine."

However, there was no time for him to dial the boy's number. When the two of them looked at the door, they saw a very cautious Henry tip-toe back into the room, biting his lip as he carried a cardboard tray with Starbucks cups in one hand and a paper bag from the same store in the other.

"Henry!"

His mother's voice made him jump, and Neal had to rush to help the kid stop the cups from falling.

"Oh," he muttered. "You guys awake, already?"

"Where have you been?"

"I just... I woke up early and... I saw you two were sleeping, so... I thought I could get us breakfast."

His eyes drifted to his father's face, as if looking for some sort of support.

"Thanks, buddy."

"You could have left a note," she whispered.

"I'm sorry, I... I forgot."

"That's okay, I'm sure you'll remember the next time," Neal added, after giving her one of the cups and a look that could be easily translated into a silent 'cut-the-kid-some-slack'. "Although..." he paused, breathing deeply as he watched Henry fish a bagel from inside the paper bag, "you'd better not get used to having Starbucks next door..."

"Why not?" the boy asked, before she had the chance to do so.

"I'm moving out."

"Oh."

"I just thought it would be nice to have more space for you to play... This apartment is too cramped."

"I like New York."

"Who doesn't?" Neal replied, smiling as his gaze shifted to Emma's face. "Too bad an apartment in Manhattan is a costly thing to keep when you don't have a job..."

She munched on her bagel for a moment, pondering why she was secretly hoping that he had plans to return to Storybrooke. After all, he had left town because of her, and she had finally gotten what she had always asked for: a life with her parents and kid, and now that Neal was no longer around, without the pain of going through all the hurt that stood between them.

"And where are you going?" she asked, drinking whatever was left of her hot chocolate and pretending not to care much about what he would answer.

"Montclair. It's just a 45-minute bus ride from here."

"Maybe... you should keep the bug," she said, not giving herself enough time to be disappointed in his response. "Like... It will make commuting easier. When you find another job, that is."

She realized Neal had frowned slightly at those words, and when her eyes darted to her son's face, she saw the boy had a similarly confused expression on.

"And it's not as if I drive that much in Storybrooke, anyway," she added, shrugging.

"I thought... you would wanna keep the car?" she heard Neal whisper.

_'I thought I would wanna keep you,'_ she replied mentally.

When she raised her eyes to his, she was sure her face would give her away. It didn't matter how hard she tried to hide her feelings from that man - at some point, they always came out, either in a quick twitch of her lips, or in the way she blinked as if she were on the verge of tears. All signs he knew far too well, because he had seen her cry far too many times to count.

"Hey, Henry..." said Neal, after giving the kid a 20-dollar bill. "Think you can go to Starbucks again and get us another hot chocolate?"

The boy nodded in agreement after casting a knowing glance towards his mother. By now, he already knew "go wait in the bathroom" or "go buy us hot cocoas" were actual codes for "we need to talk and you'd better not be around".

"Emma... what's going on?"

She kept staring at her own hands even after Henry had left the apartment. What was she supposed to say?

"I think... I just... I have to let you go," she said, her voice threatening to break at each word. "That's something I never did."

If she looked at him as she spoke, she knew her resolve would break. The previous night had been a nightmare; seeing him so near and wanting to touch him, to kiss him, to let all the walls down and just surrender, but that could never end well. It had taken her more than twelve years to finally be in control of her emotions, she couldn't afford to let go again.

_No matter how much she wanted it._

"Okay."

"I'm sorry, Neal."

"Emma, stop saying you're sorry," he whispered in response. "You have nothing to apologize for. It's okay."

"No, it's not!" she snapped, her head finally going up so that her eyes could meet his. "How can you say it's okay? Don't you get angry? With everything that happened to us, after how... everything went wrong?"

"We have Henry, Emma. Things didn't go that wrong."

"I'm not talking about Henry, Neal. I'm talking about _us_."

She let a stifled sob escape her throat now that they were finally looking at each other again.

"You know... that night in Portland... when August found me, found us..." he said, "I knew I was going to break your heart. You were the best thing that had ever happened to me, and I knew I was going to break your heart."

She shook her head, trying not to let her mind drift back to the night when she got arrested.

"You think I didn't get angry? Man... I did get angry," he continued. "More than you can imagine. I spent... years, I spent over a decade being angry. Waking up every morning... knowing that you were counting on me and that I had abandoned you... Knowing that I didn't deserve a second chance but secretly... craving one, one chance to see you again... to say I was sorry.

"And then, when I finally got that chance I didn't... I couldn't do it, I just... at the time I thought it would just be better not to know. Not to know what you would say, because if I didn't know, if I didn't... hear it from you, I could still believe I had a chance."

"You should have looked for me..."

"I know I should have looked for you, Emma. I was weak. I am the one who needs to apologize, not you."

The precise moment he had taken hold of her hand had failed to register in her mind, but as he laced his fingers with hers, all she could do was to squeeze them back. If she tried really hard, she knew she could lock those feelings away. For almost thirteen years now she had managed to keep them under wraps, if she tried really hard she knew she could move on from him. She could leave him in the past, as well as all the broken dreams that had never come true, the future that they never got to have, no matter how much they loved each other.

"But... the reason why I'm not angry now is not only because of Henry. It's because... Despite everything, despite all the hurt, we found our way back to each other. And I know I can't make up for the years you spent thinking I never loved you but I would gladly remind you that I do, and that I always did, _for the rest of my life_. But I also know I broke your heart, and I did it more than once, so I don't blame you for choosing to move on. For not... wanting this anymore," he paused when his voice shook, and cleared his throat in an attempt to push back the hurt she knew he carried as well. "And when I said I would fight for you? I meant it. I will fight to see you get the life you've always deserved to have... with or without me. Okay?"

She squeezed his hand harder as more tears escaped her eyes. His face was still serene - despite the sadness in his eyes, which were now glistening with tears, his lips were forming a semi-smile as he stared at her. He was in a place that would take her much longer to get: everything in him screamed that he was ready to try again, that he was willing to take that shot. But she wasn't, probably she would never be.

_Gold was right._

"I'm sorry, Neal," she whispered again, wiping her tears away with the hand that was not currently trying to crush his.

"Don't be," he replied, and his eyes were just as understanding as his voice. "I get it. I do, really."

She had just opened her mouth to offer what she knew would be just another useless explanation when Henry got back with their hot chocolates, and much to her relief, Neal got to his feet and rushed towards the door to give her time to get herself together before their son spotted her tear-stained face.

"Hey kid," he said, grabbing the boy by the shoulders and steering him towards the opposite corner of the room. "What do you say we start unwrapping those bad boys?"

She checked her reflection on the bathroom's mirror before joining them, her reddish, puffy eyes a deadly give away as she put up her most convincing smile.

"Yeah… I'm curious to see what you got in your shopping spree," she said, making sure to keep her gaze down as she helped Neal sort out the gifts.

"Mom?"

She swallowed when the boy spoke, dreading the question he was bound to ask and not really ready to explain what had just happened. She had sworn to herself she would never lie to Henry again, but to tell the kid that their parents had just decided to go their own ways on Ch-

"Merry Christmas," he added.

She did her best to ignore the lump in her throat as she smiled, shuffling the boy's hair as she pulled him into his arms. Bless that kid. From the looks he was throwing towards his parents, he knew exactly that the conversation had been nowhere near fun.

And still, no questions asked.

"Yeah kid…" she responded, as her eyes quickly met Neal's on the other side of the Christmas tree. "Merry Christmas to you too."


	4. Chapter 4: You still don't believe it

If only she hadn't forgotten to bring the gift she had bought Henry.

But then, it was not as if she had been given much time to prepare properly before her father dropped her off at Logan International Airport. And also, it was not as if the iPod she had gotten the boy could compete with the five gifts Neal was no handing out. A pivoting compass. An old pocket watch. A collection of keys that were said to open any treasure chests. An ancient map. And Emma's favorite: a portrait of the boy in medieval clothes that Neal had drawn himself.

"You like it?" she heard him ask, as he stared at Henry with a very familiar anxious look in his eyes.

"Wow... I didn't know you could draw!"

"Yeah, I... I used to draw a lot when I was your age. And then I stopped for some time..."

His voice was suddenly sad, and she couldn't help but remember all the pictures she had seen in his cave in Neverland.

"It's beautiful, Neal," she said, smiling as she looked at the painting herself. "You are a real artist."

He lowered his head to hide a smile, biting his lip as Henry put all of his gifts together.

"I got you something as well..." he whispered, as he reached for another box hidden under the tree.

"Oh, Neal, you shouldn't have," she replied, feeling incredibly guilty for not having bought him anything. "I'm sorry, I didn't buy you anything, I didn't even think-"

"...that you would see me on Christmas," he completed. "Yeah, I know."

She swallowed as she took the rectangular box in her hands, her gaze shifting to the smaller one he had carefully pushed further under the tree, as in attempt to hide it.

"Go ahead, open it."

"A... A photo album," she whispered, faking a smile and realizing his eyes were just as anxious as before, drifiting from the album to her face. "Now I just need the pictures."

"You'll have them," he replied, his voice low and strained as she tucked the album into her bag. "Plenty of them."

"Thanks. Uh... Henry?"

She really had to go. Good thing that Henry seemed to be having the time of his life, because if he weren't, then that trip to Manhattan would have been a colossal waste of time. What exactly had she expected, anyway?

She cast a final glimpse at the tiny box understand the Christmas tree, and started fidgeting with her cell phone. "We should get ready to go," she said. "Regina has already called me twice and if I don't pick up the phone the third time..."

Henry nodded, and reached for a small pouch in one o the bags he had filled with the gifts he was taking home to the rest of the family.

"Mom, I... I bought something for you too."

"Thanks, Henry..." she whispered, undoing the ribbon and turning the pouch upside down to reveal its contents. "When we get back home, I'll give you y-"

Her voice died in her throat when she saw a silver chain and a small pendant with the letter E carved in it.

"I tried to find a pendant with a swan to replace that one you said you lost, but I couldn't find it... So I bought one with your initial instead."

She spent a long minute looking at the chain hanging from her fingers, trying to void her mind of all the other memories that gift evoked. She remembered that one of the first things Henry had asked her when they got back from Manhattan that first time was exactly what had happened to her other chain.

_Kid had a hell of an eye for detail._

"Thanks, kid," she said, pulling him into a hug. "I love it."

And because Neal was still standing behind their son, as soon as she wrapped her arms around the boy, her eyes were once again on him.

But this time, their eyes didn't meet. Neal seemed too busy staring at his own shoes, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans as he lowered his head in silent resignation.

"Let me know when you're ready," she heard him say, still not looking up. "I'll take you guys to the airport."

* * *

"So when are you moving?" asked Henry, when they were about to go through security at LaGuardia Airport.

"Soon. But I'll keep you posted," Neal replied. "If you need anything, just let me know, okay?"

"Bye, Neal."

"Bye."

She didn't want to hug him again, maybe because she knew that every time they hugged she was reminded of all the times she had let herself be held by him. She just wanted to go, she needed to go, to leave him behind as she should have done ages ago. But for Henry, she had to be civil. For Henry, she had to be strong and forget that the welcoming warmth of his arms was something she craved. That the perfume that filled her nostrils every time her face rested against his neck made her stomach flutter.

A part of herself was struggling with the idea of running from those feelings, but another one, a much more logic one, knew she could not afford to take that chance. She was doing the right thing. It was better like that. They would always be friends.

_'Bullshit,' _a voice inside her head replied.

_'Just go.'_

_'Don't.'_

"Oh, Emma, wait."

She turned around much faster than she should.

"Think you can give this to my father?"

Her eyes dropped to his hands, and the envelope they were holding.

"Sure..." she muttered.

"Thanks."

"Bye, dad."

"Bye, buddy."

She rested one of her hands on Henry's shoulder as they walked towards the line. Maybe this once, she could invite Neal to spend some time with them in Storybrooke? It was not as if she was promising anything, but maybe if she just...

She stopped on her tracks.

_Maybe she should just stop worrying for a while._

When she turned around, though, Neal was no longer there.

* * *

Back in Storybrooke, everyone at Granny's was delighted that Henry had taken his time to buy them a Christmas present.

Emma watched him from a distance as he handed out packages containing items as diverse as a new umbrella to Archie and a pair of socks to Anton, who still seemed fascinated by the idea of wearing clothes that small. As a matter of fact, she was so entertained watching her kid that she barely noticed her mother approaching her at the counter.

"Hi," said Snow, as she took a set by her side.

"Hi..."

"How are you feeling?"

"Good."

Despite the silence, her mother's eyes spoke volumes. The moment Emma and Henry had knocked on their door, both her parents had discreetly looked behind them searching for a third person in that returning party. And whereas her father had been very successful hiding whatever surprise he might have had that Neal was not with them, Snow was a different story entirely. For a second, Emma could have sworn she looked devastated.

And she knew exactly why. Judging by the package she had hidden among her clothes, the poor woman clearly had very high expectations as to how that reunion would go.

"Condoms?" Emma whispered, after glancing over her shoulder to make sure they were alone. "Like, _really?_"

"Emma, I'm so, so sorry…" Snow replied, looking thoroughly mortified. "I knew the moment I closed your backpack that I shouldn't have."

"Did you really think that Neal and I…"

"No, no, it was more like… I had… I was packing clothes and I just thought, what else she might need and-"

"With Henry sleeping right next to us?" asked Emma, raising her eyebrows.

"You mean… You were all sleeping in the same room?"

"There is only one room in Neal's apartment."

"Oh. I… I didn't know that."

Her mother had blushed so fiercely, and looked so embarrassed that she couldn't help but smile .

"I'm sorry..." Snow repeated, shaking her head. "Your father had already taken it to the pick-up truck when I realized it was a bad idea, I felt I was invading your privacy."

"Don't be sorry, I know you meant well. I mean… Packing condoms for a trip in which your daughter is going to meet the ex-boyfriend she still has feelings for is good parenting, trust me," Emma reached for her mother's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze as she spoke. "Too bad it's… complicated."

"Emma, I don't want you to feel we are pushing you."

"No… No, that's… I know you guys are just… trying to help."

"But we're not helping, are we?"

Emma let her gaze drop to the counter, more specifically to the beer Granny had just pushed towards her.

"No," she replied, after taking a large gulp of her drink and standing up. "But thanks anyway."

"Where are you going?"

"Need to stop by the pawn shop, Neal asked me to give Gold a letter."

"Oh."

"I'll meet you guys later."

And so, after waving Henry a goodbye, she put on her coat and beanie and headed outside.

* * *

The pawn shop, as usual, was deserted.

"Gold?" she called out, after taking off her beanie.

"Ms. Swan."

She jumped when Rumplestiltskin showed up behind her.

"I hate when you do that."

"Not a big fan of surprises, I imagine."

"Not a fan of people stalking me."

"I was not stalking you. How could I," he asked, with a raised eyebrow, "when _you_ are the one sneaking into _my_ shop?"

"I didn-"

"How may I help you?"

"Your son sent you this."

She gave him the envelope, and took a long, deep breath as she braced herself for the multitude of questions the man before her was likely to ask.

"Oh. I see. Thank you very much."

And with that, he turned on his heels and made to leave.

"Wait, is that it?" she asked. "Are you not... even gonna ask how things went?"

"He's not here, is he?" he replied, after turning around and piercing her eyes with his. "Then I know _exactly_ how things went."

"Hey, what do you know? You think it was easy?"

She hated the look on Gold's face. Even if he hadn't voiced it, he knew exactly what was on his mind. He had told her she was not the right person for his son, and she had just proven him right by returning home without him.

"I wanted him to come with me, okay? I wanted... I wish we could try again," she said, dropping her gaze to the floor when her mouth inadvertently started pouring her heart's contents . "But we can't. I can't risk it all…

All of a sudden, she couldn't bring herself to look at his face again. Very few people in her life had seen her cry, and at the moment, she didn't want Gold to be one of them.

"People depend on me. Henry depends on me. If we crash and burn like we did when we were together the first time... This time, there's much more at stake. It's great if everything works out, but what happens if it doesn't?" she said, her voice cracking slightly at each word. "I'm the Savior, I can't just... I can't fail. I can't break down."

She was still trying to get herself together when Rumplestiltskin spoke.

"What does it mean to be a Savior, to you?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, wiping away a tear before looking up.

" To give everyone their happy endings? That sounds like an awful burden to carry."

"A burden you didn't think much about giving me when you wrote me into your curse."

"Oh. So that's what you think I did? That I assigned you with the task of mending people's lives?"

"They needed me to get their memories back."

"I see. That is true. And about bringing back the happy endings, you are an incredibly important facilitator. Now, what a funny thing," he said, a half-smirk curling the corners of his lips. "Looks like just giving people their memories back didn't do the trick."

"I know that. It's a never ending job."

"I agree. There is no happy ending without struggle. You have to earn it."

She kept looking at his face, feeling angrier at each passing moment.

"Now… are we done?" he asked.

"Never mind," she hissed, putting her beanie back on as she prepared to leave the shop. "I don't even know why I'm telling you these things…"

"Oh, I know why you're telling me those things," he replied, his voice louder and more intense than before. And much as she wanted to leave, she forced herself to stop, still not looking back, just waiting for what he had to say. "You want me to prove you wrong. After all, if there is anyone that knows how to do that… That person is me."

She turned around slowly, once again angry at that man, as she always ended up getting because, as usual, he was right.

"But this time… sadly, you're right," he continued. "You _are_ the Savior, people _do_ depend on you, and yes, love does make us vulnerable. There are no guarantees – which makes holding back a very attractive alternative. After all, if you have nothing, then that also means you have _nothing to lose,_" he said, the intense gleam in his eyes a stark contrast to the tranquility in his voice. "It's a cowardly choice, but at least it's safe. You don't even try, and so, you don't fail. The only… down side, so to speak, is that when you don't even try, you fail by default. And by the way, that is a lesson my son has learnt the hard way, as you may recall.

"Now, you want me to tell you that now that Neal knows better, he will never hurt you again. That you will both be… shielded from tragedy and loss by this powerful force field that will keep all the pain out as you make plans for the future. That won't happen. Love is the most powerful magic there is, but it does not erase obstacles or past mistakes. Broken dreams cannot be mended, that's a fact. But there can be new dreams."

The expression on his face softened when he looked at the letter he was clutching.

"You see, Ms. Swan, every letter I get is a step closer to a life that I had always dreamt for Bae and I. A life I know I missed. I was not there to provide for him when he was just a boy. I was not there for him when he first fell in love, and I was not there for him when he had to make the most difficult choice of his life, one that he would have never had to make if it weren't for a curse that I created, in the first place. I failed him multiple times. And this..." he raised the envelope, and despite the very collected façade he was struggling to maintain, his eyes revealed centuries of loss and regret. "This can never give us back the years we lost. The years he spent thinking I didn't love him. That is a burden I will always carry, but for my sake and his, I have to believe there is hope. That even if I was not there for him before, that I can still be his Papa, and that he will trust me again one day… even if he never forgets all the pain I caused him."

As she looked at the man's face, she felt her eyes well up with tears.

But this time, she felt there was no point looking away.

"You're much stronger than you imagine, Emma," said Rumplestiltskin, and both his voice and his eyes were genuinely caring. "But even after all the victories you have under your belt, you still don't believe it…"

She kept looking at him, in silence, as he walked away.

"…which is a shame."

And that was the last thing she heard before he disappeared behind the beaded curtain.


End file.
